


Just Business

by SyntaxSynodic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 13:05:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4480235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SyntaxSynodic/pseuds/SyntaxSynodic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They die all the time, always finding a way back to each other somehow. This time is just like any other- right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Business

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry in advance for this. This was rolling around in my head after watching some of Jared and Jensen's cons online, so I started to write it as just jotting down an idea, but it snowballed and became this. SO. I hope you enjoy, and have your tissues at the ready. Again. Sorry.

Dean rushes to where Sammy lies against the wall, crumpled at an awkward angle. He tried to get there sooner, but the son of a bitch just wouldn't die. He drops to his knees, reaching out to pull his little brother to him. A pained gurgle escapes Sam's reddened lips, and Dean's heart stops. No... Not again…

"I-I'm sorry, D-ean. I-" Sam chokes on his words, apologizing for some reason Dean can't understand. Maybe because he can feel himself leaving again.

"Shh, Sammy. It's fine." He can't help the way his eyes water and his voice cracks just a little, hoping that Sam doesn't hear it. "I'll see you when you get back. We don't stay down for long, right, little brother?" There's hope in his voice, and he tries to make it sound more like irrefutable belief. He doesn't want Sammy to be scared.

A small smile graces Sam's lips as the light leaves his expressive hazel eyes. The moisture bubbles over and a wayward tear trickles down Dean's face, but he holds onto the hope that, as he told Sammy, Winchesters never stay down for too long.

Unfortunately, something feels different this time, a strange ring of finality in the air.

Dean goes through the process stone faced, burying his brother; he refuses to burn Sammy's body, because he'll be needing it when he comes back.

He hangs around town, not wanting to leave his little brother, not when he could return at any moment. The bars become his friends as he waits, each moment a bit more painful than the last, even with whiskey numbing his veins.

Weeks pass. Eventually, Dean moves on to the next hunt, but only because people are dying and Sammy wouldn't want him to stop saving people, hunting things, wouldn't want him to give up on the family business.

Weeks lead to months which give way to years. Dean stands over the open grave before him, the familiar burn of lighter fluid eating at his nostrils. He raises the lighter, gets it started on the first try. Years of practice make it easy.

His emerald eyes get lost in the flame. Images, memories, dance among the heat.

Sammy crying as a baby. Dean picking him up gently, afraid to break his little brother. Himself rocking his arms like he'd seen Momma do. Finally getting him to sleep.

Dean crawling in bed next to Sammy after a particularly grueling nightmare woke the younger Winchester with screams and cries for Dean. Cries for Dad stopped a while back, since they were so very rarely answered.

Dean begging Sam to stop asking questions. _Please, Sammy. You don't wanna know._

On the road, side by side. Sam's laughing about something and Dean's trying so hard to keep his bitch face in place.

Sam yelling at him, fighting about some case.

_**Bon Jovi?**_ _Hey, Bon Jovi rocks, on occasion._ They're laughing together now, busting a gut as they rock out.

Dean pulling Sam to him, trying to help, pleading with every single known source in his mind to be able to help his brother. He'd do anything. _Let it go, Brother._

Sammy flying into the wall, a crunch echoing from his chest. _SAM!_ Blood bubbling over his lips as his punctured lung slowly fills with the wrong substance. You can't breathe through blood.

Dean telling him it's okay. He'll come back, just like always.

Dean's fingers unclench and the lighter falls, memories swirling in the flickering flame. The grave goes up in a roar of dissipating gases. Dean can feel the weight of the spirit lifting, easing, and he knows he's done the right thing, even as the tear slips down his cheek.

Saying goodbye to Sammy has never been easy.

Slowly, after the fire has died down, Dean repairs the gaping mar in the Earth, refilling the chasm. Normally he wouldn't, but, well, this one's special. Before he goes, he lays a hand on the headstone.

"Rest easy, little brother."

With that, he trudges to the Impala, heaves the gear into the trunk, and starts the engine. His eyes land on the empty passenger seat and an image of Sammy flickers before his eyes. He's smiling, and he mouths something to Dean. Even though he can't hear him, Dean understands.

_**Thank you, Brother.** _

The engine roars as Dean peels into the distance to continue on saving people, hunting things, wishing it was still more than just business.

 

 


End file.
